


Fault Lines

by paradiamond



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, M/M, Walt POV, angst and making up, area typical homophobia, i assume
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:44:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walter Longmire is a very smart man who can tell that both Vic and Cady are in new relationships, but can’t see what’s right in front of him. The revelation takes a bit of an adjustment, and carries the risk of losing Cady for good this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fault Lines

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be finny. One of my original outline notes was: lots of Walt thinking he’s being clever and Henry is like uhhhh :/ It didn't turn out like that though.

“So, I know we’ve been down this road before but any idea who Cady’s seeing this time?” Walt asks, and watches Henry look up, slowly. He takes a drink from his beer and waits. Eventually, Henry reacts. 

“It did not go so well for me the last time I tried to pry into her love life. Or you for that matter.” He nods his head in Walt’s direction. 

Wait raises an eyebrow, growing more sure by the second. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“I am aware.” Henry sets his hands on the bar, spread wide. “What makes you think she has a new special someone?”

“I know the look,” Walt says, playing along. It’s not something he does for most people, but Henry has never been most people. “She’s been happier, but also less inclined to tell me the details of her day. Vic too, now that I think about it.”

Henry blinks. One long, slow blink, like a stall for time. Walt had seen it a million times before. 

Amused, Walt leans back on his stool. “I noticed. And there’s nothing between Vic and me, if that’s what you’re wondering. Any...anything that might have been confusing that situation is gone now. I just noticed that she’s seeing someone too.” 

“Oh?” Henry asks, seeming to have recovered somewhat, sliding back into his barman persona. “What makes you think that?”

Walt leans forward now, resting against the bar. “More of the same. Also I noticed that she had borrowed one of Cady’s lipstick’s, so she’s trying to look different, even though she’s messy with it.”

Henry cocks his head. “Messy?”

“There was some on her neck this morning.”

Henry makes a choking sort of sound that he covers with a cough, his hand flying up to his mouth.

Walt frowns. “What?”

“Nothing.” Henry waves a hand. “But in regards to Cady, ask her yourself this time.” 

Walt sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead. “That bad?”

“I did not say that. In any case I do not know who Cady might be seeing.”

Walt gives him a dry look. The key to asking Henry questions is paying attention to his exact words. “You don’t know. But you suspect.”

Henry tilts his head, smirking. “Based on what I have observed, yes.” 

“Maybe you should have been the sheriff,” Walt grumbles, and Henry rolls his eyes. 

“Very funny. When are you seeing them next?”

“Them?”

“Cady, I mean.” 

“Tonight, we’re having dinner.” 

Henry chuckles. “As long as there is no sudden and horrible crime.” 

“Right.” Walt smiles and shakes his head. “Things have been pretty quiet.” 

Henry nods, his expression fading back into seriousness. “Maybe it is the calm before the storm.” 

“Maybe.” Walt nods back, trying and failing not to feel unsettled. “Sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“No. But I _am_ sure that there is plenty that I should not tell you,” Henry says, his mouth turning back up at the corners, setting Walt’s mind at ease again. Whatever it is, it’s not the end of the world. 

“Thanks, Henry,” Walt says, smiling slightly.

Henry nods to him. “Have fun at dinner.” 

***

Cady’s house looks the same as ever, lived-in but nice. Martha kept theirs the same way. The chair on the porch now has a pillow on it that Walt recognizes as Vic’s and he smiles to himself as he rings the bell. He had been a little nervous about what might happen to the state of things once Vic moved in after he had seen how she took care of her last house, but apparently he hadn’t needed to worry. Cady is a good influence. 

Cady is the one to open the door, a wide smile plastered on her face. “Dad, hey! Come on in.” She steps back and Walt catches sight of Vic in the doorway to the kitchen, but then she’s turning around quickly to disappear. He looks back to Cady. 

“Hey punk. Been a while.” 

Cady’s expression seems to stall, but then she recovers herself. “Since you’ve been over? I guess so.” 

Walt hums in agreement, wondering if they’re both going to keep trying to hide two boyfriends all night. He looks around as he makes his way to the kitchen, but he can’t see any distinctly male influences. Just the quiet blend of Cady and Vic. 

“Hey, Walt,” Vic says when he walks into the kitchen, but she doesn’t look up, eyes trained on the pot in front of her. 

“Vic. What’s cooking?” 

“Uh- It’s supposed to be pasta,” Vic says, and then laughs a little nervously. Walt leans over her shoulder and can see why. 

“Well there’s always the bread.” 

Vic scoffs and Cady laughs, walking over to the stove too. She and Vic switch places smoothly, the spoon trading hands without a word. Walt leans against the counter. 

“This seems to be working out,” he says, gesturing vaguely between them. 

Cady straightens her spine all the way. “Yeah, it is. It’s going really well actually.” 

“Yeah, it’s great,” Vic says and shoots Cady a look that Walt pretends he didn’t see. She starts pulling plates out of the upper cabinets. “I’ll set the table.” 

As Vic disappears into the dining room, Walt straightens up. “Want help?”

“No!” Vic calls out, or yells, really. Cady winces, then points at the fridge with the spoon. 

“You can toss the salad if you want.” 

Walt does, frowning down at the lettuce. “Where’s Henry when I need him?” 

Cady rolls her eyes. “It’s not that hard, Dad.”

“That what I said about the pasta,” Vic says from the doorway, hunched over a bit with her arms crossed against her chest. “Now look where we are.” 

“We’re fine, actually." Cady dumps the contents of the pot into a strainer. Steam rises up in a cloud, reddening her face. “It’s all fine.” 

Walt glances back to Vic, but she had vanished again. 

***

Dinner is good, but strange. Walt had been around both of them long enough to know that. Between Cady talking incessantly and Vic not talking at all, both facing him from across the small table, he has plenty of time to take notice. Eventually though, he’s had enough of the strangeness. 

“This is nice,” he says, smiling. 

Cady smiles back, like she always does. “Thanks, Dad.”

He turns to Vic, who is looking down at her clear plate. “So Vic, when are you moving out?” 

She and Cady share a look, but it’s still Vic who answers. “We don’t know yet.” 

“Possibly never,” Cady says, her eyes now fixed on Walt’s face. Vic is looking at him too. 

Walt leans back, regarding them both with amusement. “Well, I think that would be a little hard to explain to your boyfriends if things get serious. Next time you should invite them too, and I can bring Donna.” 

Cady’s eyes go wide but Vic clears her throat and jumps in. “So you’re still dating Dr. Monahan? That’s great.” She sounds like she means it, or at least like she’s trying to. 

Walt nods, ready to go back to eating now that he had made his point but then Cady sets her fork down with a snap, the sound loud in the suddenly very quiet room. “Dad.” 

There’s something about the quality of Cady’s voice that has him looking up immediately. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember when I was dating Branch and you were upset that I didn’t tell you?” 

Walt sighs and leans back in his chair again. “Sure.” 

Cady tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well as you already know, I’m seeing someone new. Again.” 

“How new?” Walt asks, and she blushes, starting at her ears and creeping onto her face. “I have eyes Cady.” 

She laughs, sounding a bit strained. “Yeah well, we know that. Not so new, I guess.” 

Walt nods and glances over at Vic. “Are uh, you sure that you want Vic here for this conversation?”

Cady lets out that same startled laugh again, but Vic winces. She unhinges her hand from her fork too and wraps her hands together, her knuckles white. 

“Uh, yeah Walt,” Vic says, glancing over at Cady but then swiftly looking away again. “I think I need to be here for this one.” 

Walt frowns. “Why? You don’t have to tell me who you’re dating Vic, that’s none of my business.”

“Well-” 

“Dad, I’m dating Vic,” Cady says, very quickly and very loudly. “That’s it, that’s the big secret. It’s Vic.”

Walt blinks. Cady and Vic are both staring at him, though Vic’s hand had migrated over to the stem of her wine glass, gripping tightly. He isn’t sure what kind of expression is on his face. Eventually, when no one says anything else, he frowns.

“Is this a joke?” 

“No.” Cady leans back in her chair. Vic picks up and drains her wine glass. Walt follows the motion. 

“Vic?” 

She sets the glass down and meets his gaze evenly. “Yes?” 

“All this time behind my back?” he hisses, feeling heat creep up into his face. He can't even imagine. 

“Yeah. It’s true, and it’s been going on for a while now, but Cady really wanted to tell you.” 

“And you didn’t?" Walt asks, growing increasingly angry. “You just wanted to hide it?”

She glares. “No!” 

Cady leans forward, pale and wide eyed. Stressed. It set him on edge too. “We’re telling you right now, Dad.” 

“I can’t believe this,” Walt says, and it’s true. He can’t see it. He couldn’t see it, apparently. Henry’s words, his weird behavior, everything takes on an embarrassing new meaning. Who else knew but him? 

“I know,” Cady says imploringly. “I know this is...hard. All things considered.” 

“All things considered like my daughter is apparently- What?” 

Cady winces but Vic narrows her eyes and leans forward, challenging him. Fight or flight, and she's never run in all the years he's known her. “Bi?” 

Walt bangs his fist on the table and Cady jumps, her hand flying up to her chest. He points at Vic. “You stay out of this. What is this with you? You couldn’t have me so you went after my daughter?” 

Vic’s mouth drops open. Cady gasps. “Dad!” 

He shakes his head at her. “How could you?”

“This isn’t about you, Walt!” Vic nearly screams, seeming to have recovered, her face going from white to red in a moment, like flipping a coin. 

Walt gets to his feet. “No it isn’t, is it? This is all about you and your selfishness. Both of you.” 

Cady stays seated but physically leans away from him, her palms jammed against the edge of the table. “What?” 

“You heard me.” He shakes his head, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind at once. “How could you do this? What would your mother have thought? We didn’t raise you like this.” 

Cady blinks, a tear running down her cheek. “Well, I- Dad-” 

But Walt is already heading for the door, ignoring Vic yelling after him and the sound of Cady starting to cry harder. The raging need to get away from them before he does or says something terrible flares up even worse under his skin. Before _they_ do something even worse. He has to turn around to close the door, and he sees the two of them still sitting the dining room, Vic with her arms wrapped his daughter's shoulders, Cady's face pressed into Vic’s neck, shaking. He nearly goes back in, the instinct to help warring with his anger. The two dogs fighting, all the time. Then Vic catches sight of him. Her eyes narrow into slits. 

“Get out, Walt!” She really does scream it this time, the sound cutting through all of it, shocking him to the core. He feels frozen in place, and then Cady looks up, tear tracks running down her face, still caught in the circle of Vic’s arms. 

Walt turns and leaves his regrets at the door. 

***

Walt bangs on the door so hard it shakes in the frame. “Henry!” 

It’s late, very late, but Walt has shown up at Henry’s door at stranger times before, and for less legitimate reasons. Besides, he has a key to the Red Pony, and now that Henry lives in the upstairs apartment, he feels justified in using it. There’s no response, so he pounds on the door again. 

“You will not have much luck doing that, unless you are trying to break it down,” Henry says from behind him. Walt whirls and sees Henry on the stairs below, arms crossed and visibly amused. “I was in the office. Late, I know, but there is work to be done.” 

Walt scowls. “Not now. I have to talk to you.” 

Henry gives him a dispassionate once over. “Apparently so.” 

Walt just moves out of his way so he can open the door, still seething. As soon as it swings open, he sweeps inside. Henry watches him with that same amused expression. “I take it dinner did not go so well?”

Walt looks up, hands on his hips. “No.” 

Henry hums and settles against the wall, arms crossed. “What happened?”

“You know perfectly well what happened,” Walt growls. He wants to hit something. “This is something I could have used a little advanced warning about!” 

Henry straightens and puts his hands on his hips. “Yes, but it was not my secret to tell.” 

Walt huffs and turns away, catching the punching bag as he goes. “I don’t understand you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind telling me, you’re her godfather and you just let this go on? This could ruin her life!” He turns back to face him, suddenly furious again. Henry just raises an eyebrow at him, unaffected. 

“If you try to tell me that you have never understood the inclination I will call you a liar,” he responds evenly, as though explaining something to a child. 

Walt feels his face heat. “There’s a difference between- it’s not the same thing!” 

Henry takes a careful step forward and continues in that same unruffled tone. “I know there is, and clearly they are serious so you better get your act together. I take it that you did not respond well.” 

“No.” Walt rubs a hand over his face, feeling pulled in multiple directions at once. “No, I didn’t.” 

“How bad was it?”

Walt just shrugs. “I might not be invited back.” 

Sighing, Henry walks over to his kitchen cabinets and pulls out two glasses and a bottle of something dark. “You will be, because you will fix it.” 

Walt follows him, feeling like a puppet without strings, and sits himself down heavily in one of the chairs. He doesn’t respond as Henry sets the glass down in front of him. He just keeps thinking of Cady crying, of Vic glaring at him. Of them dancing around him for God knows how long. They must have been planning to tell him tonight specifically. That was the entire point of the dinner. Walt picks up the glass. 

“I need Martha for this.” 

Henry, who had apparently sat down across from him while he was lost in thought, shakes his head. “Tough, and no you do not.” 

Walt looks up, frowning “I was so mad, I’m still mad.” 

“I know. You have to get over it.” 

Walt puts his forehead in his hand. “Why this?” 

“Why anything?” Henry takes a drink from his glass as well. “That is not the point. You love Cady, and you will either deal with this or you will hurt her. That is all.” 

“How am I supposed to work with Vic now?”

“You did it with Branch.”

“Not really, and that was different.” 

Henry arches an eyebrow at him. “I had no idea that this would be such an issue for you. You are usually such a logical man.” 

“There’s nothing about this that’s logical.” 

“No, but recognizing that love is illogical is a logical move. One you will have to perfect.” 

Walt shakes his head. “I don’t know how.” 

“Figure it out, this is Cady we are talking about." 

Glaring, Walt drains his glass before speaking again. “I know that.”

Henry arches an eyebrow at him. “You are not acting like it.” 

Walt looks away and Henry refills his glass for him. They drink in silence then, sharing the bottle, Walt more so than Henry, until Walt stands and realizes that he can’t drive. 

“Huh.” 

Henry smirks and stands as well, cleaning up their glasses with his usual efficiency. Walt squints at him, but by the time his mind catches up and he realizes that he should help, it's done. Walt shakes his head to clear it. “I should go. Walk would do me good.” 

“You should not,” Henry says and prods him in the direction of the bed. “Do not make this worse than it already is by passing out in the street.” 

Walt struggles his boots off and grunts. “Wouldn’t.” 

“If you say so. I will be on the couch in my office,” Henry says and turns away, but Walt catches his sleeve. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I am not sure you would make it down the stairs safely.” 

“I meant just stay.”

Henry snorts. “You will not have another gender related meltdown?”

Walt tries to smile. “No. I think I’m done with meltdowns for one day.”

Henry huffs out a laugh and leans down to take his boots off. “Move then, that is my side.”

Walt manages to roll towards the wall, and then Henry’s back is pressed against his, warm and safe and alive. He relaxes. 

“Just like old times.” 

“Alaska.” Walt laughs. “Jesus that was cold.”

Henry elbows him in the ribs. “Go to sleep.” 

Walt does, almost right away. But it’s a fitful, guilty sleep. Martha is there, standing very still and displeased with him. Cady isn’t there at all. 

***

Walt wakes up alone and with a sticky note on his forehead. He groans and peels it off, squinting up at it in the low light of the attic. **Go to work.**

He huffs. “Thanks, Henry.” 

The dry note notwithstanding, Henry had left him a change of clothes and a hangover cure which he downs in one gulp. He sits on the edge of the bed for another few minutes, reorienting himself, and then he makes himself get up. 

It’s Monday, so the bar is closed and Henry is out, but Walt knows where the keys are and how to lock up behind himself. He scribbles a note to Henry and leaves, already dreading the upcoming day. The last thing he wants to do, short of reliving the night before, is go to work with Vic. He fidgets with his clothes, trying not to think at all, but he draws the line at dragging his feet on the way there. He’s never been one to avoid a problem. 

As it turns out though, he was worried for nothing. Vic isn’t there. 

Walt settles behind his desk gingerly and keeps the door open, eyeing her empty desk. There isn’t much to do. Despite the fantastical cases they sometimes get, the rest of their days are broken up by a few minor incidents. Soon, Vic is over thirty minutes late. He doesn’t want to call her, but if he doesn’t, then he’s surely letting his personal feelings get in the way of the job. Then again, if they hadn’t had a major fight the night before, he might not think that much of her being late on a day where nothing is happening. 

Walt drums his fingers against the wood of his desk and glances up at the door again. Ferg looks up too, just like the last three times, and focuses on Walt. He’s frowning. Walt sighs. He doesn’t need yet another problem. 

“What can I do for you Ferg?” 

Ferg looks away. “Nothing, sir.” 

Walt stops tapping his fingers, staring at him. “Sir?” 

Ferg glances up and then down again. Walt frowns. “Ok. Have you heard from Vic this morning?” 

Ferg tightens his grip on his reports and doesn’t look up. Wonderful. Walt sighs and pushes himself up from the desk, moving to stand in the doorway. “Alright-” 

“No, I didn’t,” Ferg grinds out. He looks up, visibly angry now. “But I did hear from Cady.” 

Walt blinks. “Ah.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I take it you have something to say.” 

Ferg’s glare sharpens to a point. “No.” 

“Good.” 

“Yeah, fine.” Ferg looks back down at his papers. Then he stands up in a rush, startling Ruby. “How can you even think about getting mad at either of them for not telling you when this is how you’re reacting?”

Walt leans back, ready to shoot him down, but then Vic walks in. 

“What’s going on?” She raises an eyebrow at Ferg, who drops back down into his chair in silence. Walt studies her. Thankfully, she doesn’t look like she’d been crying or anything. He relaxes by a margin. 

She walks straight to her desk and settles in, her back to Walt. It’s how she always sits, but it seems pointed today. Walt watches her, still leaning against the doorway, waiting for some reaction. Ferg watches them both as discreetly as he can, which isn’t very much. When it becomes clear that she isn’t going to say anything, Walt goes back to his desk before he calls her into the office. For an awful moment, Vic doesn't move or respond. But then she stands and stops just inside the door, arms at her sides. 

“Yes?” 

Walt nods in her direction. “Close the door.” 

She does and then doesn’t move. Walt allows it, leaning forward. He isn’t sure what to say, so he just asks what he really wants to know. “How’s Cady?” 

The muscles in Vic’s jaw work for a moment before she manages to respond. “Is this an official police inquiry or-” 

“No. Let’s put that aside for now.”

“Then I don’t want to talk and you can’t force me to.” 

Walt sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Look, I may have overreacted.”

Vic just stares at him, eyes wide and mouth set in a hard line, until Walt feels compelled to speak again. “I’m uh, I know I shouldn’t attacked you like that.”

Her face turns red. “Well that’s great Walt, that really fixes things.” 

Walt winces. “I know, I said I was sorry.”

Vic gapes at him. “No, you didn’t! Jesus Walt, you can’t just say whatever you want!”

Walt leans back, alarmed to find that he can’t come up with anything. Vic runs a hand over her perfectly smooth hair and stalks forward, dropping down into the chair in front of him. She glares. “Ok, look. Are you actually sorry?” 

“Yes.” Walt manages, because it’s an easy question. 

Vic waves a hand. “Fine then. Fantastic. Are you going to be able to be ok with this?” 

That's a harder one. Walt gives it all the consideration it deserves. Then he nods. “Yes.” 

Vic visibly relaxes, some of the tension in her shoulders dropping off. “Well alright then. That’s a start.” 

“What’s the end?” Walt asks, wanting to smile but knowing they’re probably not there yet. 

She shakes her head. “I don’t know Walt. That was really fucked up.” 

Walt looks away. “I know. I don’t always react to surprises very well.” 

“Neither do I,” Vic says, and laughs darkly. 

Walt looks back, curious. “What’s funny?” 

Vic sighs and meets his eyes. “Me. Us,” she says, gesturing between them vaguely. 

“Oh.” Walt taps his fingers against each other nervously. “You know, I didn’t actually mean what I-” 

“I know,” Vic says quickly. “You and I both know that was never really anything.” 

Walt cocks his head. “We do?” 

Vic shrugs. “I do. That’s one thing I noticed after I had taken a step back, and especially after I moved in with Cady. It’s not you and Cady who are so similar, it’s us.” 

Walt raises an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“We’re the same. I didn’t want you, I wanted to be like you, at least the parts of you that Cady looks up to,” Vic explains with total confidence. Then she frowns. “You really messed things up with her, by the way. She was so sure you would understand, or at least that’s what she was telling herself. I knew better.”

"You were protecting her." Walt studies her. “You really care about her.”

Vic colors but she doesn’t look away. “Yes. Obviously.”

“Why is that?”

Vic’s eyes narrow. “I don’t have to explain myself to-”

“No I meant-” Walt breaks off, making himself stop. To think. “I mean that I understand. Cady is special.”

Vic relaxes by degrees. “Yeah. This whole thing, man. It makes me glad that I don’t have to tell my parents.”

“They don’t care?”

Vic arches an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.”

“Oh.” Walt looks away. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Does Cady know?” 

Vic looks up, meeting his eyes. She smiles, just slightly. “Yeah, she does.” 

***

He leaves work as soon as he’s off shift and goes to Cady next. The drive seems long, the walk up to her door even longer. He both knocks and calls out so she knows who it is before she opens it. A warning. To his relief, she opens it anyway.

“Hey,” Walt says, stopping himself before he calls her punk. Cady just looks at him, giving him time to see that her hair is a mess, and she's clearly still wearing her pajamas with a shawl thrown over the tops. There's a quiet, almost a meekness, about her that's not usually there, and he wants to brush it away. For a second, he’s afraid that she’s going to slam the door in his face, but then she steps back. 

Cady watches him as he moves through her house, visibly nervous. He had seen her watch wild animals the same way, because he had told her to. You don’t let something that unpredictable, something that might hurt you, out of your line of sight. The fact that he apparently qualifies for this distinction now feels like the worse part, far worse than the initial shock and anger. 

“May I sit?” he asks, because he doesn’t particularly feel like he has the right to assume at the moment. 

“Sure,” Cady says slowly, carefully, but doesn’t take a seat herself. 

Walt nods and lowers himself into the chair, perching on the edge. It’s an uncomfortable inversion of the night before. He wraps his hands together and leans his elbows on his knees. He wants to leave. Wishes he go go back and fix it. He shakes his head. “Look, every parent wants the easiest path for their kids. It’s just hard to watch you chose something that I know will be hard for you.”

Cady tilts her head. “Ok. I mean, I think the LGBT community would disagree with you on the choice part.” 

Walt blinks. “The what?”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “Never mind.” 

“I know what your mother would say about this.”

“Do you? Because I do. I told her years ago.”

Walt blinks. “Years?”

Cady sighs and finally sits down. “Yeah, dad. This isn’t- it’s not a new thing for me.”

Walt nods, rolling this new information around in his mind. The fact that Cady has an entire part of her life that he knew nothing about. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

Cady laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “Can you blame me considering what happened?”

“No. So what’s the plan here?”

She straightens her back. “Well. We’re not leaving, no matter what people say. I guess it’ll start getting out more and more now.”

Walt frowns. He hadn’t thought of that. “Good, you shouldn’t leave, but that’s not what I meant.”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “Oh.”

“I meant the plan for us.”

Cady frowns. “Apologizing isn’t the plan?”

“Part of it.” Walt rubs a hand over his face. “Just- what do I need to do here to fix this? You tell me.”

Cady’s expression softens. “Dad. It’s ok.”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m really sorry punk.” 

Cady nods. “You’re right, it wasn’t ok. But I’m ok. I forgive you.”

Walt smiles, and then smiles even wider when Cady actually smiles back. He settles back into the chair, feeling a great unwinding in his chest. “So, Vic huh?”

Cady laughs, and it’s a good sound this time.


End file.
